Tag Archives: champagne

Recently I’ve been so busy tucking into my food that I’ve hardly stopped to tell anyone about it. But I’m back on track now after a summer of being borderline obsessed with sourcing beautiful old kitchen paraphernalia, travelling around England in search of new places to eat and celebrating becoming the Spaniard’s prometida.

It was during a weekend in Brighton with the sensitive gluttons that I finally managed to get to the foodie treasure trove known as Lewes. Over lunch at Bill’s Produce Store we steadied ourselves for the Aladdin’s caves that lay ahead.

Working up an appetite in the queue at Bill's

Everyone wishes they had a general store like this in town...

Some pretty summer squash for good measure

Then we plunged headfirst into the antiques shops, hungry for bargains.

Recently I’ve become addicted to sitting with one fist in my mouth and the fingers of my other hand splayed over my eyes while I watch the childbirthing antics on Channel 4’s One Born Every Minute. This is part of a personal exercise in confronting the idea that one day I could be writhing helplessly on a hospital bed, lowing like cattle and waiting for an infant who will resemble a tiny, slime-covered version of myself to make a painful and dignity-stripping appearance.

This weekly shriek and sob-athon is compulsive viewing that never fails to leave me gibbering and rocking starry-eyed on the sofa. How do these women endure the marathon of birth? Most cling to the grim knowledge that there’s no choice: their baby has to come out somehow.

The teenage mother that starred this week was the exception to this rule. There she was with her mum and boyfriend, wailing and shaking and thoroughly petrified at her body’s revolt. ‘I can’t do this!’ she convinced herself over and over. ‘Yes you can,’ said her mum kindly. ‘When this is over, I’ll buy you a sausage and egg McMuffin – how does that sound?’

I’m not going to answer that question. OK, I am – I can’t help myself. It sounded so gross I had to cover my eyes again.